LEECH

CHAPTER THREE - AISHA (THEN)

FLASHBACK BEGINS

Choosing birthday gifts for best friends is an unnecessarily difficult task that no one gets credits for. There is just such a wide amount of possible products and my pea sized brain was too small to choose. I wasn't one of the decisive people who knew what to take and what not to the moment I entered a store, like my dad. I was more like Ma in that field. Relying way more on intuition and emotions. And right now, my intuition and emotions were speaking a thousand different words.

Srishti's birthday was a huge affair. Her father was a big businessman, a gold merchant, and despite being the middle child, her birthday had always been celebrated lavishly, probably way larger than my own were. I knew birthdays didn't really matter to me, nor did the gifts. It was all the kids showing up, my friends, that really mattered. But not everyone thought like me. Especially not Srishti.

So here I was, stuck in this hugely overpriced store, sifting through the columns of gift items and searching for one which called out to me. Papa had given me free reign. I didn't like free reign. I wanted him to take control of the situation and steer me clear like he always did, but he had chewed my head off, saying something about 'boldness' and 'self-confidence' that went over my head. I mean, how does interacting at a gift shop influence one's boldness and self-confidence?

They are still probably just reeling from the Parent - Teacher's meeting two days ago. Not my fault that the only 'complaint' that the teachers have for me is that apparently I don't interact in class. I don't get the point of it, though. I can answer the questions. I am answering the questions. I'm getting the score they expect from me in the exam. I'm doing my best to be one of the 'disciplined kids', keeping my head low and navigating through school without causing much havoc. Why did it matter if I screamed out the answers in class like a banshee, as long as I had solved it in my notebook? My class was noisy enough as it is, without me having to add to it.

My dearest class teacher also very kindly, though unnecessarily, mentioned that my 'timidity' was the reason she hadn't chosen me to be the class monitor, despite my good behaviour and grades. How do good behaviour and grades matter for being a class monitor? All you need is a person who can be a steadfast leader even in the face of difficulties, and I wasn't a leader. Ever.

Plus, Srishti and Bhavna were our monitors. And I was their best friend. They were much, much better at the job than me, so why did our teacher have to mention that inconsequential fact?

I roll my eyes, focusing on the task at hand. I can analyse her thought process later, in the comfort of my bed and away from this dazzling shop.

So, I turn around, and walked face-first into a wall.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't see you there." A voice spoke from somewhere above me.

Oh, so walls speak now?

I look up, surprised to see Yash's warm brown eyes staring down at me. Sanket, his best friend, just stands to the side and laughs, trying to muffle it as a cough.

I immediately pull back, straightening and looking around for a source of escape. "Yeah, no...it's okay." I mutter, sidestepping him and heading towards the counter, where my Papa is standing and having a lively conversation with the cashier. They've probably already exchanged numbers and addresses and planned to meet up on some weekend.

Yash's voice stops me in my impromptu escape plan. "You here for Srishti's birthday too?" He asks.

I nod mutely.

"Well then, we can help each other with the gifts. You're much closer to her than I am, anyways. You can help me choose, and in return...." He grabs a shimmering glass swan from the top shelf, one that I was eyeing before he came but was unable to reach for it. I haven't been blessed by the vertical gods of height, unfortunately.

He waves the pretty little thing in front of my eyes. "I can help you get these." He says.

I'm not looking at him. Not because I can't maintain eye contact for long, definitely not because he's the Yash, but rather because the floor looks exceptionally clean today.

His foot is tap-tap-tapping on the floor. "What do you say?"

Tap tap tap.

"Aisha?"

Tap tap tap.

"Aisha!"

I jerk, as if emerging from a trance. I shake my head, mentally screaming at myself for making a spectacle out of nothing. Yash and Sanket are still standing, still staring, still waiting for my response. Why won't they just go away?

I sigh. "Okay, sure. Let's do that." I mutter, glancing at Papa. He's checking his watch. Is it getting late? I don't know.

A quarter of an hour later, Yash is carrying a large teddy bear to the counter while I'm carefully cradling the little swan in my hands. Papa's eyes find mine, silently questioning. I shrug. It's called fate, dad.

Yash and Sanket, it's always like that, Yash-and-Sanket, everytime, everywhere — bend down to touch Papa's feet in the middle of the crowded store. They introduced themselves, had a small chit-chat, smiled and laughed and probably got themselves a few nice blessings, all while I was standing to their side awkwardly, arms folded over my chest.

It was the first time Yash ever approached me. I mean, he was very close with Srishti, and maybe Bhavna too, so it's not like we never saw each other. It was more like a few 'Hi's here and a few 'Hey's there and that was it. He had never sought me openly, nor had I ever wanted to talk to him. Yash and Sanket, and I, we didn't — couldn't — be friends. We didn't belong in the same world.

So him walking up to me in a gift shop while he could have just gone his own way without indulging in a conversation...it struck me as odd. Or maybe I was overthinking again.

We said our goodbyes. He smiled at me and waved. Sanket did a small, teasing bow. I waved back, but I think my fingers were sticking up in an odd sort of way, and my hand was bent backward a little too much. Gods, I am thirteen. I should really learn how to wave, for heaven's sake.

On the way back, squeezed to the side in an auto-rickshaw because Papa ditched us and took his car to meet a colleague, Maasi — Ma's sister — observed me with a strange look in her eyes. I shifted under her scrutiny. Did people not realise that staring at someone so intently was a bit unnerving?

She took my hand in hers, the glass swan kept to the side. I kept stealing glances at it. With how much this rickshaw was bouncing, I worried that it would break and then this whole evening would be useless.

"You love your father a lot, don't you?" Maasi asked.

Huh, weird. Why would she ask such a question, when she already knows the answer to it? "Yes..." I said hesitantly, not knowing where this was about to lead.

She smiled. "Then, promise me something, Aisha." She dragged her slipping dupatta back over her shoulders, the sequins and beads glinting under the street lights.

I strained to hear her over the noises in the street. "Yes?"

Her mouth pinched in a line as she grasped my hands, firmer than before. "Promise me right here and right now that you will never, ever let a man take your father's place in your heart. Promise me that he'll always be first for you, throughout your life. Promise me." She murmured softly, and I squinted, narrowing my eyes at her. Where was this coming from? Is something wrong? Is Papa okay? I mean, I saw him just five minutes ago and he was fine, so why was Maasi spouting all this nonsense out of nowhere?

Now very unnerved and feeling very out of place, I nodded, just to get over with it. "I promise." I said, and shrugged like it wasn't something important. I wouldn't realise, until years later, how important two words spoken under a starry night in a busy street would be.

FLASHBACK ENDS